Spare My Sins
by MarthaJones11
Summary: The end of the Earth is coming. Two of the greatest villains in the universe have teamed up, and a ragtag group of heroes, led by the Doctor, must put aside their differences to protect the only thing standing in between the attackers and the future of their planet. Doctor Who, Sherlock, mentions of Avengers, Supernatural. The greatest adventure on earth begins!
1. Prologue

Her legs pumped faster. Her breath hitched in her throat, then came out somewhere between a sob and a gasp. She knew that she wouldn't be able to run for much longer, and that it didn't matter. The months she had spent running from him would mean nothing. Her protectors were all dead or captured or in hiding, and soon he would take her.

She knew she shouldn't have gone home. That they would be monitoring her household and tailing her family. But after months of running from modern-day London to 38th century Dubai to pre-revolutionary Virginia, she needed to find her solid ground again.

But they found her getting ice cream with her brother, who dropped his cone and told her to run as fast as she could, that he would hold them off. The nostalgia of that peaceful summer night was shattered as she sprinted away from the old snack shack, hearing the screams and seeing flashes of blue over her shoulder. She sobbed, running faster.

She prayed that the Doctor would find her, but God never answered her prayers. The two men who had chased her over seven continents and countless centuries appeared in front of her, just as she reached the tennis courts behind her old high school. She fought like hell when the taller man grabbed her wrists and pinned them behind her, but he was stronger and bound them, forcing her to her knees before the shorter man in the black suit.

Then the pain came, and she disappeared inside. As the blows and kicks rained down in retribution for the eight month chase she'd led them on, she thought of everyone who bled and fought and died for her, all in vain. That hurt more than the broken bones.

He finished with a final backhand that nearly rendered her unconscious. But she stayed awake long enough to see the needle and feel its sharp prick in her neck, and to hear the shorter man whisper in her ear:

"How about that. I win."


	2. The Beginning

So after much Tumblr-ing and reading lots of fanfic of multiple shows and movies, I've decided to attempt a multiverse story. It's an epic adventure with an OC as a fairly central character. Please review! Let me know how smoothly I'm combining characters and plotlines.

"I still don't understand, John. She's coming for what purpose?"

John sighed, glancing over at Sherlock over the table. His flat mate had yet to change out of flannel pants and a bathrobe, regardless of the fact that it was nearing late afternoon. The past few weeks had presented a lull in cases that was boring Sherlock and driving John nearly mad in the process. His brilliant (or so they said) flat mate had single-handedly shot four bullet holes in their wall, nearly burned down the flat in a failed attempt at toasting bread, and filled every last jar with some human body part – all within the past four days.

"Sherlock, I've explained this. She's a student at an American university, coming to London for a semester to study literature. I signed us up as a host family months ago, and – "

"Family?" Sherlock spat out, "John, we would hardly fall under that category. According to – "

"I realize that, Sherlock," John cut in, "and the program accepted our application due to proximity to the university in addition to a few well-chosen references."

"Mycroft."

"Yes, Sherlock. Your brother owed me a favor."

The two sat in silence as Sherlock processed the information John had just laid out, and as John waited for him to have some emotional outburst. To John's immense relief, the doorbell rang as Sherlock opened his mouth.

"I've got it," John quipped, not wanting Sherlock's hobo-like appearance to be the first bit of her new home that would greet the awaiting girl. He closed his laptop, pushed back from the table and started down the stairs, praying that the girl was either deaf, immune to sarcasm, or would choose to return to America upon meeting Sherlock.

He opened the door and looked down at the girl standing patiently there, immediately sizing her up and realizing she didn't stand a chance against his flat mate. The girl stood at just over five feet tall with an athletic build. Her dark brown hair was tied back from her face in a long braid that fell over her large hiking backpack slung over her shoulders. She wore a black fleece pullover, purple running shorts, and tennis shoes, with her only jewelry a charm on a simple black cord around her neck and small turquoise earrings that framed her face. The girl carried a black luggage bag in one hand and a floral wallet, still unzipped from paying the cab fare, in another. She quickly moved to stuff the wallet inside of the luggage bag and stuck out her hand, which pushed the long sleeve of her fleece up slightly, revealing a wrist covered with hair bands, a red ribbon adorned with a bar code, and a black cord with a large silver charm.

"Hi! My name is Samantha FaDelo. But you can call me Sam, if you like. Or Samantha, I don't really care. Are you Mr. Holmes or Mr. Watson?" the girl bubbled as she shook John's outstretched hand.

"Oh – erm, um, yes I'm Mr. Watson! I mean John. Call me John," he stammered out. New people. After all these years, meeting new people still upset him, made him nervous. But the girl – Sam – seemed sweet enough, and overlooked his slight stutter.

"Nice to meet you John! And thank you so much for letting me stay with you – I'm very excited to start my semester off!"

Clearly, the girl had manners. She was very polite, smiled continuously, and seemed to have a warm glow about her. Perhaps Sherlock would let her off the hook. Maybe.

"Well, I'm very glad you'll be staying with us, Sam. Can I help you with your bags?" It was time to bring her upstairs to meet his flat mate. God help them both, John thought as he carried Sam's suitcase up the stairs.


	3. Stare Down

"Sherlock!" John called out, "Sam's here! Would you come and meet her – and make sure you're wearing pants please!" He didn't need a repeat of that damned Buckingham Palace situation - or the one in the bathroom of that pub down the block, for that matter. It had been well over two months and the bartender still threw them out every time the pair came down for a pint, muttering something about indecency all the while.

Thankfully, his flat mate was wearing pants. Not just any pants, John noted. Sherlock had changed his lazy outfit for his customary black pants, purple collared shirt, and black jacket. His hair was combed; his eyes sparkled with the thrill of impending chase. Shit.

"Why, Samantha, welcome to our flat," Sherlock smiled – a fake one, John noted. He could tell Sherlock's fake smiles by now; the expression never reached his eyes, which remained calculating, raking over Sam's frame.

Clearly, she noticed his false welcome as well. She tensed up, and returned a tight-lipped smile, her eyes narrowed; she tilted her head slightly to the side and positioned one foot behind the other in a defense movement.

"Thank you, sir," she replied politely, "you must be Mr. Holmes."

"A master at deduction you've scrounged up, John."

"Thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment."

"I know."

"Do you also know that your wallet has fallen out of your bag?"

"Yes. I noticed it on the stairs. However, I was dying with excitement to meet you, and just couldn't take the time to retrieve it."

"Floral really isn't your pattern."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment."

"It wasn't meant as one."

"I know."

John's head jerked back and forth as he took in the volley of words being shot across the room. He was impressed. Sam was holding her own against his imposing flat mate, but he knew that was about to end from the smirk growing on Sherlock's face. He decided to cut in.

"Alright, give it a rest, you two. Sam's just flown over – "

"Oh, no worries, John," Sam cut in, "I'm rather enjoying getting to know Sherlock."

"Is that what's happening?" Sherlock sneered, "I had no idea. Please, give it a go. Tell me how much you've 'gotten to know me.'"

"Well, I know that you can hold your own in conversation. I know that you either have my wallet in your possession or you've noticed it on the stairs. And I know that you're not thrilled about me crashing your flat for a few months," Sam ended, smiling at Sherlock as if trying to form some sort of truce.

He didn't bite.

"Well, that's not very much. How about I try you?"

John groaned. Sam smiled.

"Very well, Mr. Holmes. What have you deduced about the enigma that is me?"

Sherlock stepped closer to Sam, closing the distance between the two and began his tirade, slowly circling her as he rattled off facts. She stood stiffly, flinching slightly as Sherlock went around her back, but maintaining a fierce, unblinking eye contact with him.

"I know that you're from a middle class family. You grew up in the northern regions of the United States. Near Boston, probably. Your family life was wonderful, but you've become detached from your parents, probably due to distance. You have a brother, younger, about whom you are overly protective. You run, but you hate it. You're an atheist. Never have believed in God, never will. You're one of those New Age types who meditate and do yoga and chants every morning. You used to smoke. You're a vegetarian. You've travelled quite a bit. And you wear modest clothing to cover – "

"Enough."

The voice made Sherlock stop immediately in front of Sam. He rolled his eyes and slowly turned toward the door at the top of the staircase.

"But I was just getting to the interesting parts," Sherlock complained, hardly noticing Sam jumping out from behind him to embrace the newcomer at the door.

"Wait!" John started to shout out and grab her, but the girl was too fast. She wrenched away from John and bounded away, nearly tackling the tall man who had just entered.

"Sam," he sighed, "you've been getting into trouble again."

"Just a bit. Nothing I couldn't handle."

"Has he been back?"

"Once or twice. Nothing major, like I said."

"Not true," came a voice from the chair where Sherlock had settled himself.

"Wait," John said, trying to catch up with the situation. "Sam, how do you know him? He's a dangerous man."

"Oh, I – " Sam started, only to be cut off by Sherlock.

"She ran with him for quite a bit. Was quite a helpful companion, from what he's told me. Fought the Master and won a few times, as well. Isn't that right, Doctor?"


	4. Universal Traveler

"Yes, Mr. Holmes, I was the best damn companion that the Doctor has ever run with," Sam responded, pulling away from the Doctor's embrace.

"Well, I wouldn't go THAT far," responded the Doctor, smirking as Sam smacked him lightly on the arm. "Hey now darling, don't be upset," he laughed.

"Darling?" asked John, still trying to catch up. "Are you…together?"

"Do try to keep up, John. And please use logic. Clearly they're not a sexual couple. Neither is showing the proper biological responses that lovers would exhibit upon being reunited." As Sherlock continued, Sam cut in, attempting to fill in John on her and the Doctor's relationship.

"No, John, we aren't together. The Doctor is…well he's more like a second father to me than anything. And as for you," she added, turning to face Sherlock, "you were partly right, and partly wrong about me."

"Do tell."

Sam sauntered over, knelt down in front of Sherlock, and rested her chin on his knees, succeeding in her obvious goal of making him uncomfortable.

"I'm from a middle class family. I grew up in rural Pennsylvania, not anywhere near Boston. I had a great family life, but haven't seen my parents in years. I have a twin brother, and I am overly protective of him. I run, I hate it, but I need to stay in shape for all of that running after the Doctor. I'm a Catholic. I believe in God, and always will. I used to smoke, and sometimes do when I'm stressed. I'm a vegetarian. I've travelled all over the universe. And I wear modest clothing to cover the scars and bruises I've gotten running with the Doctor."

She finished her tirade and moved away from Sherlock, sat down on the floor, and laid flat down, arms cradling her head, and stared at the ceiling, smirking slightly. Sherlock stared at her, then promptly picked up his violin and played an improvised tune as John snorted through laughter and the Doctor openly grinned in the corner. It wasn't everyday that a girl showed up the great Sherlock Holmes, and the two men were going to enjoy Sherlock's defeat while it lasted.

As Sam drifted off to the tune of Sherlock's violin, John put the kettle on for himself and the Doctor.

"So, Doctor, how have things been since we last saw each other? What was that, a few months ago?"

"Ah, you know John, bouncing around, hitting up different places. Never a dull moment. So much to see, so much to do."

"That's pretty vague."

"Well, yeah."

Silence overtook the room as Sherlock abruptly stopped his composition and gently set down his violin.

"Trouble with him again, then. Isn't that right, Doctor?"

"Why can't you just keep playing, Sherlock?" sighed the Doctor.

"Because you're keeping something from us. Something that involved our new flat mate here," Sherlock said, gesturing to the sleeping girl on the floor. "And while John might be too slow to understand, I know exactly what you need. And I know why you need us to be involved."

"Leave it, Sherlock," the Doctor replied, his voice becoming dangerously soft.

"Leave what, exactly? Leave out the fact that the Earth is in mortal danger? Leave out what you've been doing for the past few months? Or leave out why he wants her back?"

The Doctor stood. "I said LEAVE IT!" he shouted, stalking over to Sherlock.

"Stop."

The voice came from the floor, where Sam had woken up in all the chaos, and where she was sitting cross-legged, hugging a pillow to her chest.

"Nothing, Sam. Go back to sleep."

"I'm not a child, Doctor! I've travelled with you to worlds that most people don't know exist! I've saved civilizations and battled false gods and fought with Time Lords. I deserve to know what – "

"You can't know!"

"Why? Dammit Doctor, tell me!"

"Because I'm trying to protect you!"

John and Sherlock had watched the two argue, and now watched as Sam fell silent, a look of dread passing over her face.

"Why do I need to be protected, Doctor?"

"Because – "

"Shut up, Sherlock!" both John and the Doctor yelled simultaneously.

The Doctor sauntered over to Sam and slowly sat down beside her, taking her hands in his. He sat there, holding her hands for several moments, before sighing deeply.

"I suppose you're going to find out soon enough. I was going to wait to tell you, but it's going to happen sooner or – "

The Doctor's words were cut off by a knock at the door. The four looked around at each other.

"Expecting someone, then?" the Doctor asked.

"No," Sherlock replied, turning to John. "Have you got a lady friend coming over today? Shelia? Julie?"

"Margaret. And no, I'm not expecting her today."

Another knock.

"Well, don't everyone jump at once. I'll get it" said Sam, getting to her feet and rushing to the door of the flat. She opened it to find a shorter man, dressed in an expensive suit and engrossed in some important email on a smartphone.

"Well, looks like I'm late to the party," the man whined.

"I don't remember sending you an invitation," Sherlock replied, standing up and stalking over to the shorter man.

"You didn't. I did," the Doctor stated from his spot on the floor. The man at the door spotted him.

"Hello, Doctor. Been quite some time, hasn't it?"

"Yes it has, Jim. Far too long."


	5. Not Really A Party

"Jim?" Sam asked, turning from the man in the door to face the Doctor.

"Jim Moriarty. Hi!" the man yelled, snaking his hands around the girl's waste and lifting her into a hug. "I've heard sooooo much about you from our mutual friend with the blue box here."

"Don't touch her!" John and Sherlock shouted, jumping toward the pair and wrenching Sam from Jim's embrace. Jim smirked, then moved toward the boiling kettle, fished a teabag out of the cupboard, and poured himself a cup.

"Milk?" he asked politely.

"In. The. Fridge." Sherlock replied through gritted teeth. He watched Jim root around, pushing jars of eyeballs and fingers around until he found the carton. Having finally finished, he sauntered back into the living room, sat himself down in Sherlock's chair.

"Well, don't stop all the fun on my account."

"No, it's fine we weren't having that much fun anyways," Sam replied. "Although aside from nearly assaulting me, I'm not sure we've been formally introduced."

"My sincerest apologies," responded Jim, sounding not very apologetic. "My name is Jim Moriarty. Consulting criminal."

"Yes, he's quite the enigma," Sherlock drawled from the seat he had taken across from Moriarty, slowly tuning his violin and refusing to make eye contact with the newcomer.

"Now, now, boys, play nicely," the Doctor yelled up from the floor.

"Well, how about you tell us why you've invited our mutual friend, Doctor?" John demanded. "And just how did you two become friends?"

"I'd choose the term 'acquaintance.'"

"You wound me, Doctor."

"You've wounded me before."

"As I recall, you rather enjoyed that little component of our relationship."

"Acquaintanceship. And I'd prefer we didn't talk about that here."

"As you wish." Jim sipped his tea, smirking. "Now perhaps we can begin to discuss why you've invited me here."

The Doctor slowly stood, walking over to the window. He looked out over the street, breathing deeply. They were almost all here, everyone he needed. But he knew he would need a few more members before his entourage was complete. Still, there was no harm in filling in John, Jim, Sherlock, and Sam. After all, he knew that the three men would need some cause to bring them together. What better cause than the defense of the Earth?

A shout broke him from his thoughts. He turned from the window, and witnessed hell breaking loose in the small flat. Apparently he couldn't turn his back on this group for thirty seconds.

John had Jim pinned against the wall by his lapels. Jim was laughing into the larger man's face, which had turned red with anger. Sam was attempting, and failing, to drag John away from Jim, while Sherlock sat in his chair, back toward the commotion, calmly playing his violin. Jim was laughing maniacally, John swearing loudly, and Sam shouting over their arguing and Sherlock's playing.

"Look, I don't know and I don't care who started this," yelled the Doctor, dashing over to the commotion, pulling out his sonic screwdriver, "but I'm about to end it!" However, a suddenly animate Sherlock, who had jumped up and threw down his violin, knocked the screwdriver out of his hands.

"SHUT UP! EVERYBODY SHUT UP!" he shouted over the commotion.

John froze, but did not release his hold on Jim, whose eyes shifted from the man in front of him to the agitated Sherlock. Sam stepped away from the pair and slid behind the Doctor, who protectively pushed her farther behind his back.

"What…what's happening?" asked John, noticing the sudden change in the room, leading him to release Jim and walk over to Sherlock.

"He's here, John."

"Who?"

Before Sherlock could respond, four knocks sounded at the door.


	6. Devil Takes Hold

"We have to get out of here," the Doctor whispered, bending down to retrieve his sonic screwdriver and pointing it at the door.

"Can't you lock it or something?" demanded John.

"Doesn't work on wood," came the simultaneous reply from Sherlock, Sam, and the Doctor, all of whom were staring intently at the doorknob.

"We could climb out the window with some sheet?" suggested John; still not sure why the four knocks at the door had inspired such terror in the room.

"I'm afraid it's too late for that," came a silky voice from behind them.

Everyone jumped except the Doctor, who closed his eyes and sighed, knowing that voice and knowing that there would be no escape today. He slowly turned and opened his eyes, taking in the tall form of the man before him. The demigod sported a black suit and crisp white shirt, with his characteristic green scarf hanging lazily around his neck. His black hair had grown longer since they last met, and his face seemed more pale and gaunt, as though he had grown less powerful following his imprisonment and escape. There was no denying, however, the power contained in the glowing staff he held at an angle to the floor in a lazy but clearly offensive stance.

"Hello, Doctor."

"Loki. Fancy meeting you here."

"Indeed. You've gathered quite the entourage."

"Remind of that one time in New York?"

Loki smiled, tight-lipped. "Careful now, Doctor. We wouldn't want any of your friends to get hurt."

The knocking continued. Loki looked away from the Doctor, shot a blue beam of light at the knob, allowing the door to swing open. Through it, a man could be seen standing ramrod straight, his arm rose to knock at the now-opened door. His hair was a dark brown; an expensive and well-tailored suit covered his thin, yet powerful frame. His steely grey eyes darted around the room and fell on the Doctor.

"Thank you, Loki. And Doctor! I noticed your Tardis parked out front and figured I'd bop in to say hello!" the man's voice was friendly, but underneath laid the promise of menace and possible violence. "Why don't you introduce me to your new friends?"

"I don't believe you've been invited to this particular party, Master."

"Oh, you know I love it when you use my name."

"Yes, well I'll use it as much as I have to in order to get you to leave."

"I won't be doing that. She's behind you. Let me see her."

"No."

The Master gestured and nodded, and before anyone could move, Loki had grabbed Sam's shoulder in a crushing grip and dragged her over to the Master. Sam cried out and fought against the taller man, but Loki flung her to the floor in front of the Master. As Sherlock, John, Jim and the Doctor jumped to fight him, Loki shot a blue beam of light from his staff that formed a barrier between himself, the Master, Sam, and the four men.

"Now, now, boys, don't fret. I just wanted to talk to Sam here," the Master sneered, crouching down on his heels in front of her. Sam gripped her shoulder, gritting her teeth against the sobs that wanted to come pouring from her mouth. Instead of freeing them, she looked the Master eye to eye, and spat in his face.

Calmly, the Master raised his hand, wiped off his face, and backhanded her as he brought it down again, leaving Sam holding a reddening cheek, the pain in her shoulder momentarily forgotten.

"Play nicely, darling," he whispered. "Your pain isn't the only one you have to worry about today."

"Go to hell."

"I'm sure I'll see you there eventually." The Master stood and gestured to Loki, who hauled Sam up from the floor as the men on the other side of the barrier shouted.

The Master turned to face them. "Don't worry, boys. I won't be taking her with me today. My plan isn't quite ready to be implemented. But since I can't have her running all over the universe…." He turned and grabbed a thin metal band from his pocket. The steely grey circle was studded with blue gemstones that pulsed with an energy that mirrored that of Loki's staff.

"If she runs, I'll know. If you take her, Doctor, I'll know where and when, and I'll follow you there. And the result won't be pretty." The Master finished and gripped Sam's arm, pulling up her sleeve and clasping the band on her left wrist. She kept her head down, staring at the band, until the Master gripped her chin lightly and pulled her face upward to look at him. His facial features softened momentarily, and then he released her and nodded to Loki. The demigod retracted the beam of light. The two turned, stalked out the front door, and were gone.

The Doctor rushed over to Sam, who was staring down the corridor where the Master and Loki had disappeared.

"Sam, Sam look at me," the Doctor pleaded, holding her shoulders and turning her to face him.

Her eyes were hard, but tears were forming at the edges. "You've been holding things back from me, Doctor. You haven't told me everything."

"What do you mean?" he replied, stammering a bit over his words.

Sam wrenched away from his grasp and stood a few steps back. "I heard them, Doctor. When he touched me. I heard the drums."

The Doctor looked at her sadly, and opened his mouth, but before words came out, he was cut off by Sherlock's voice in the corner.

"Rule number one: the Doctor lies."


	7. Tea Time

Hi guys! Hope you're enjoying the story – I'm certainly having fun writing it! Please review; it really helps me determine what to include, what you guys are hoping for, how to determine the direction of the story, etc. This chapter is a little shorter, but is setting up for a longer one. Enjoy!

Eighteen punches, twelve slaps, five cups of tea, and twenty minutes later, the group found themselves seated on various objects of furniture, nursing bruises and holding ice packs to their faces. Sherlock's comment set the Doctor off, so much so that he revealed Sherlock and John's relationship to Jim and Sam. Jim, thinking this was hilarious, collapsed in a fit of laughter. John, finding the situation less than amusing, proceeded to punch the Doctor, leading Jim, protective of his Doctor, attacked John, and the entire situation spiraled out of control from there. When Mrs. Hudson found the group, they were beginning to tire out, but an occasional punch was being thrown. She forces 'her boys and Sam' away from each other and settled them each in with an ice pack and a cup of tea.

Jim broke the silence. "Well that felt good. Haven't had that much fun since the last time the Doctor and I – "

"Enough, Jim," the Doctor warned, seeing John's reaction starting to light up with laughter again.

"Guys," Sam started, not wanting the situation to get out of hand again, "can we talk? Like about everything that is going on? This is primarily directed at you, Doctor," she said, setting down her cup and turning to face the taller man while her hands worked up to her chest to clasp the hidden charm beneath her fleece. "I want to know what the Master wants with me, why he's slapped this bracelet on me, why I could hear the drums, why – "

"Why he's working with Loki Laufeyson, as well. I wouldn't even work with that nutcase," Jim interrupted.

"Yeah. We need to know, Doctor," John continued. "You're the one who brought us all together, for some crazy reason."

"Doctor, would you like to address these questions? Or shall I fill them in?" Sherlock asked from his chair.

The Doctor shot daggers at Sherlock from across the room. "No, Sherlock, I've got this covered. It's my responsibility to explain this situation. But we're going to have to start from the beginning. We're going very far back, so you might want to settle in for this one."


	8. Things Revealed

"Hundreds of years ago, the Master and I were, well we were like brothers, if you can believe it. We roamed the fields of Gallifrey together, running over the golden grasslands and through forests of mighty silver trees, older than the oldest Time Lord. The Citadel of the Time Lords was a wonderful, marvelous thing to behold; yet it also held terrors too indescribable for mere language. There, in our earliest days of schooling, we were subject to these terrors. They were meant, I believe, to terrify us into never leaving the Citadel. And they worked on most young ones – but not on all. The Master and I would discuss the things we had seen while roaming the fields and the forests, and brag about how we would seek out these dangers and confront them. The silly ramblings of young boys, I now see. But regardless, the stage was set. Both the Master and I eventually left the Citadel and went to see the universe together."

"At first it was grand – jaunting off from planet to planet and travelling forward and backward in time. We were young and reckless and caused more harm than good, but none of it lasting. However, that one day, on Platonic Zeugma, the Master did something that caused the beginning of the split in our relationship, something I found unforgivable."

"He had, you see, a proclivity for mind-altering substances in his youth, and overdid himself that night. He stole the Tardis as I slept and looked into Her, he looked into the untempered schism, into the raw power of the Tardis, all in an attempt to intensify his altered state. When I woke up, he was sitting outside the Tardis, claiming to be hearing a drumming noise that wouldn't stop, and talking about future events that he had foreseen. I thought him hungover, and brought him inside the Tardis to rest."

"But the drums would never stop again, and they intensified inside the Tardis. Eventually, the Master became hostile and aggressive, claiming that every planet and race we visited would turn against the Time Lords in the future, and it would be easier to destroy them now. Finally, one day, he left the Tardis on Dendorite IV and never came back. After three months, I left, figuring he would return to the Citadel somehow."

"But he never did return. The Master, during our separation, became my sworn enemy. He claimed that he knew the future, that these inferior races would destroy the greatest race of all, the Time Lords, and that I was a traitor to my race in my attempts to protect them. This is the impasse we have reached ever since."

The Doctor stopped talking to take a sip of tea. No one said a word; silence overtook the room as he set down the cup and turned to face Sam.

"This is where your story begins, Samantha. Have you ever heard of Harold Saxon?"

"I've heard the name, I believe in a political theory class. He was the Prime Minister a year or two before I was born? But he disappeared after a few months. No one has seen him since."

"Correct. What you don't know about that story, what very few people know, is that Harold Saxon was actually the Master. He used his connections and bided his time, working up the ranks by allying himself with powerful people, until he became one of the most powerful men in the world. He used his power to bring the Toclafane, aliens he claimed would aid humanity, down to Earth. Together, the Master and the Toclafane terrorized this planet for over a year, wiping out nearly half the population in the process"

"Wait! I've never heard of this!" Sam exclaimed, looking around at the nodding heads of the other men. "What…how?"

"Thankfully, with the help of some amazing companions, I was able to reverse the actions of the Master. It was the year that never was, and all returned to normal without anyone, save a few involved in the process, remembering a thing."

"One of the people that did remember, however, was the Master's wife, Lucy Saxon. She had connections and was a beautiful, diplomatic woman who fell under the Master's spell of manipulation. She became his faithful companion. However, as the year progressed, the Master abused her more frequently, leading her to eventually shoot and kill him. He would be reborn – another story for another time – and Lucy disappeared without a trace. Nine months after I had left earth, however, I received a message from Lucy, begging me to return and giving me the location of her hideout."

"I returned immediately and sought her out. She was dying, and had so much she needed to tell me, but there wasn't enough time. Instead, she handed me a small bundle that cried out – a newborn baby. The Master's daughter. She made me promise I would take care of her, and as she died, she asked me to call her – "

"Samantha," John whispered, mouth open and eyes wide as saucers.

"Her grandfather's name was Samuel, and she wanted the girl's name to be interchangeable with that of a man's. Lucy thought of every possible protection for her daughter, but couldn't know that a Time Lord always knows when he has produced offspring. The Master sought me out and demanded I hand you over, Sam. But by that point I had hidden you, hidden you deep in rural Pennsylvania with a lovely family. The Master knew you existed, but because you were only half Time Lady and had no developed powers, would never be able to find you."

"Until we met that time. On Axiom."

"Yes. I should have never let you travel with me. But you seemed attracted the Tardis. Wherever I went on Earth, you seemed to show up. That field trip in the third grade to Washington, DC, your family vacation to Spain, your study abroad program in India. Finally I decided that the odds of the Master stumbling across the two of us were too slim, and as a partial Time Lady, I knew you needed to see the stars, so I took you on as a companion. Unfortunately, we had that little encounter on Axiom, and the Master has never let you rest since."

Sam looked up at him, stunned.

"So that's why she's here, then?" Jim asked. "You wanted us to protect her from the Master? What would be so bad about him having his child? Maybe it would soften him up a bit."

"The Doctor isn't finished," said Sherlock softly, almost dangerously. "Tell them why she's here, Doctor. Tell them about Loki."

The Doctor looked as though he could punch Sherlock again, but closed his eyes, then opened them and continued. "Do you all remember a few years ago, when Loki Laufeyson attempted to take over the Earth, nearly destroying New York City in the process?" Nods from all gathered. "Good. Then you remember that he failed, his army failed. Those wonderful Avengers – along with a little help from me – were able to stop him. So both the Master and Loki have attempted to invade and take over the earth separately, and both have failed. However, the Master was much closer at making his conquest a success."

"Oh my God," whispered Sam, knowing what was coming.

"Pray harder, sweetheart," said Jim, also realizing. "I think we're going to need all of the divine intervention we can get."

"The Master and Loki have teamed up, joining both of their armies in an attempt to take over the Earth, once and for all. The Master agreed to free Loki from his imprisonment in Asgard on one condition: the Master would be the primary leader in this war. Loki, eager to escape his prison, eventually conceded control. Their plan: the Master would wage war upon the Earth with the combined force of both armies, destroying all whom he deems dangerous to the Time Lords – by my estimate, about three-quarters of the human race. The Master will then depart, leaving Loki as King of New Earth."

"However, the Master implemented one very serious and non-negotiable condition: before the war begins, you, Samantha Saxon FaDelo, must be far away from the Earth and safe in another realm. Loki was furious with this condition, thinking that a single mere human would not be worth the time and effort to find before waging war. However, the Master stood firm – you are his only daughter, after all, and a partial Time Lord. So he struck a bargain with Loki."

"Just before the war begins, the Master will find you and hand you over to Loki, who will transport you to a safe realm. When the fighting ends, you will return to New Earth as Loki's bride – a Time Lady and Demigod, a perfect couple. Loki eagerly agreed."

"So you can see, dear Sam, that the only way to prevent the destruction of the earth and near total elimination of its population is your protection. You MUST remain on Earth, for as long as you do, the Master will not wage war upon his daughter, nor Loki upon his betrothed. You, Sherlock, John, and Jim, are only the first in a long line of protectors of Sam."

"Wait." Jim's voice rang out in the corner. "I'm not going to put my neck on the line to protect some girl. I could be killed. I could probably get a hefty sum for turning her over." Jim's eyes gleamed with the thought.

The Doctor stood up and grabbed the smaller man by his collar, hoisting him up. "You'll do no such thing," he growled, "because if you do, you'll lose her," he said, pointing at Sam, "and the destruction of Earth will begin. She's the only thing standing in between two powerful armies and Earth. Lose her, you'll be dead in months. Understand?"

Somber nods all around.

"Excellent. Sam, get up. It's time to move on. The Master will be tracking you, but I've got a few thoughts about your protection. Have you heard of Nick Fury?"


	9. Mercy On Your Soul

Hello readers! I hope you've been enjoying! Again, please REVIEW and tell me what you think – I would really appreciate it!

This chapter has some dark, sexual themes. Nothing directly stated or described, but definitely some heavy stuff.

"I need a smoke," Sam said abruptly, jumping up from her spot on the floor and stumbling down the steps of the flat, shrugging into an oversized cargo jacket hastily wrenched from her still-packed bags. Sherlock looked longingly after her, and then glanced at John, who shook his head disapprovingly.

"You've been free for three weeks now," John told his flat mate. "You don't need one. And she needs some space." Sherlock settled back in his chair with an angry humph and began to tune his violin strings.

Outside, Sam fished a Red out of a half-empty pack. She only smoked when drunk and stressed, and really wished the former were the cause of this particular bout. Cupping the base against the wind, she lit up and took a long drag, breathing out slowly into the fresh November air. Closing her eyes, Sam saw Loki and the Master and the bright blue flashes and replayed the Master striking her across the face. She heard the Doctor telling her about her past and felt the cool reminder of the steel band reminding her of her future. Another drag. She could refuse. She should refuse. She should use herself as a bargaining chip and tell the Master that she would come willingly if he and Loki promised to leave the Earth untouched. That she would marry Loki – the thought made her gag around the cigarette – and they would return to Asgarth, Asdarg, wherever that realm was that Loki came from, and they would sort the whole mess out.

But she was a coward and she knew it. She would run away, run far away from her father and his blows and her betrothed and his violent, controlling nature. Another drag. It was starting to snow. Late November – Advent would be starting soon. She shouldn't be here, running from evil and trying to prevent world annihilation. She should be at home, in rural Pennsylvania with her family, going to church and lighting the candles of the Advent wreath and singing hymns of supplication to her savior to become incarnate and join the world of men. Her left hand rose to the charm around her neck, pulling a small likeness of a cairn from her chest, the same one her brother wore about his neck. She should be home with him, shoveling snow and playing video games and drinking hot chocolate before midnight Mass. She should –

"Hello, sweetheart." Her eyes snapped open, the daydream vanished and she again stood on the busy London side street, holding a cigarette and plotting an escape. She turned slowly to face Jim, who had snuck up behind her. While not a tall man, he still stood a solid six inches over her, and his well-tailored suit and thinly disguised violence reminded her of the Master.

"What do you want, Jim?" she snapped, unhappy at her memories being snatched away by this infamous consulting criminal whom she barely knew.

"To offer you a drink, sweetheart," he drawled lazily, producing a fifth of Jameson from a fold in his overcoat. He unscrewed the cap, took a swig, and then handed her the bottle. She eyed him with suspicion, cautiously taking the bottle as he raised his eyebrows and offered a smug smile. Tilting it back, she allowed the whiskey to slide down her throat, taking several large gulps before handing it back to Jim and taking another drag on her cigarette, which she immediately offered to the man in front of her.

"Never took you for an alcoholic smoker," he remarked, capping the whiskey and taking the cigarette from her outstretched fingers. "From the way you pray, I'd have taken you for one of those religious people."

"I'd like to consider myself religious, but I'm not sure my God would think so," she responded, taking back the cigarette and finishing it before throwing down the butt and crushing it beneath her heel. Jim said nothing, only uncapped the whiskey and took another shot before handing her the bottle for a second time. This time she immediately took it, and after her drink held the bottle between her hands and leaned over the railing of the steps.

"If I didn't know you better, I'd think you were trying to get me drunk," she said into space, her back facing the man behind her.

"What makes you think I'm not," he whispered, leaning into her ear and brushing the hair off her shoulders with a gloved hand. She flinched and knocked his hand away, turning to face him.

"No. Don't touch me," she said firmly. "I don't need this. I need cigarettes and whiskey right now."

Jim looked surprised at her outburst, then stepped closer, forcing Sam back and pinning her between his body and the balcony. She clenched her hands around the railing as she leaned further away from him. Jim noticed this and grabbed her wrists, effectively trapping her between him and the railing.

"I don't know what you're playing at, sweetheart, but I don't do anything for free," he whispered in her ear, his voice dangerously soft. "If you want whiskey, you'll pay with more than a half-smoked cigarette. If you want me to protect you instead of handing you over to your dear father and fiancée, you'll offer me much more than a thank-you note from your dear Doctor." He stopped and smiled at her, then leaned in and laid a kiss on her forehead. "Remember, my dear," he said, pulling away, "I always get what I want. And whether you give it to me now and earn my protection or Loki gives it to me later as a reward for my valiant service, I'll get it."

The taller man stepped away from Sam, whose eyes were screwed shut in an attempt to disappear. Overhead, through the open window, she could hear Sherlock, John, and the Doctor shouting again about some matter of her protection. That's when she realized that hundreds, maybe thousands of people were going to die in her defense. That if she didn't stay on earth, those deaths would be in vain as billions were murdered and enslaved. That if she was going to expect others to protect her, she would have to make sacrifices as well.

This wasn't her first rodeo, and she knew it wasn't going to be her last. She turned to Jim, her eyes brimming with defiance and a cool confidence in her actions. She hated herself for what she was becoming, but there was no turning back now; both herself and her other protectors needed Jim's resources and couldn't afford to have him fighting for Loki and the Master. She offered a quick supplication to God, an apology for what she was about to do and a plea that, were He in her shoes, He would understand.

"I trust you have a car nearby."

"It's parked around the corner, my dear. Shall I call the driver?"

"The others will notice we've gone."

"I've already told them I was taking you to the pub for a drink. Sherlock and John aren't allowed back there after the nudity incident, and your dear Doctor trusts me implicitly." Jim stopped and smiled at her. "They won't be looking for us for some time."

"If we're going to do this right, you should know I'm into light bondage."

He smirked at her, his eyes lit up with laughter. "I should have guessed. Come along, then, sweetheart. Let's go save the world."


	10. Votes and Visitors

John leaned back in his chair, resting his neck along the backside, and closed his eyes with a sigh. He tried to block out the increasingly agitated voices of the Doctor and Sherlock, both of whom had vastly different ideas on Sam's protection, and they were two of the most pigheaded men John knew. They had been at this for over an hour, arguing over who should be allowed to know the situation. The Doctor favored the Avengers, while Sherlock maintained that they barely held off Loki during the first invasion, and would be of little help here. John sighed. He needed a drink, but the chair was far too comfortable and already it had been a long and stressful day…

"John. John, wake up," his eyes fluttered as the voice softly floated toward him, accompanied by someone shaking his hand. "Come ON John. We need to talk." Sam's voice finally woke him from his sleep.

"How long was I out?" he asked, shaking his head and slowly getting to his feet.

"Only about an hour. You didn't miss much," the Doctor responded, "Only Sherlock's impressive diagram on the benefits of involving Nick Fury in our situation." The Doctor motioned toward a white board propped against the mantle. John made out the names of the Avengers on the board, along with a choice word or two, probably directed at the Doctor.

"Well, then, glad I could be of so much help," John commented. He turned to Sam, who was sitting on the floor, her back propped against the Doctor's legs. "How was the pub?"

She jumped slightly, and glanced quickly at Jim, who was boiling water in the kitchen, before looking back to John. "Fine. You know. Beer. And whisky. Just good and stuff," she replied quietly. Sherlock's eyes raked over her, John noted. He prayed his flat mate would stay silent. Clearly something was wrong with Sam, but he didn't want to upset her. Most likely, she was still reeling from the revelation of her identity from only a few hours ago. However, his flat mate always did push it too far.

"Get to know Jim pretty well then, did you?" Sherlock asked lazily, looking over at Jim, who was now leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen with his arms crossed.

"Um, yeah. We just had a few and shared a smoke," Sam replied more confidently, returning Sherlock's gaze and absentmindedly rubbing the bracelets on her wrists. "Nice pub down there."

"Indeed," Sherlock almost whispered. "I don't suppose you-"

"Enough," the Doctor interjected. "As much as I enjoy small talk about beer and Jim Moriarty, we have larger issues on our hands." John had decided that he liked this man. Or alien. Whatever he was, the Doctor clearly knew how to command a room, and proved a match for his flat mate. If the world was ended, he would be proud to fight next to the Time Lord.

"We should vote," Sam said from her spot on the floor. "I know that a bunch of ideas have been tossed around, and I think majority should rule. If someone gets enough votes, they get to be involved in the plan. If not, their name is off the table."

"The American has spoken," Sherlock snapped. "Voting is unfair. It assumes that everyone in this room is equal and intellectually capable of-"

"ENOUGH!" The Doctor roared. "This is Sam's life and protection on the line. Voting is better than any idea you've conceived, Sherlock. You and your brilliant mind. We vote."

Sherlock silently sank back in his chair, glowering at the Doctor, but realizing the decision had been made. John was glad for the idea, he decided. Finally, some action would move things along.

The Doctor slowed his breathing and eyed everyone in the room. "Everyone here either votes yes or no on each name brought to the table for consideration. There are five of us here. No ties, majority rules."

"First up: Nick Fury and the Avengers. All those who vote yes to involving them in Sam's protection, raise your hand."

Hands shot up from Sam and the Doctor, and five seconds later John also raised his hand. That Captain America person was a military man, and John figured it couldn't hurt to have him on their side.

"Oh, the idiocy," Sherlock muttered.

"Care to share, Mr. Sore Loser?" Sam asked mockingly.

"Nick Fury is a spy. His only goal is the advancement of the government he serves. The American government. If they can profit from turning you over to the Master and Loki, they will do it in a heartbeat. I trust the Avengers, as bumbling and ineffective they may be. But we cannot involve the superheroes without Fury, who will betray us," Sherlock responded.

Silence filled the room.

"He's right, you know," Jim drawled from the corner, still leaning against the doorframe. "Nick Fury will keep American interests at heart. And involving the Avengers means instant publicity. We all know Tony Stark can't keep his mouth shut on anything of importance."

"I want to change my vote," Sam stated.

"You can't change," the Doctor replied.

"I'm an American and I can do what I want," Sam answered to a suppressed snicker from Sherlock, "And I'm changing to no."

"You're not an American. You're a half-British, half-Time Lord child, and I'm in charge," the Doctor said, his voice escalating.

"Hold up," John interjected, "Who voted you King of We're-All-Fucking-Screwed-Anyways-Ville? I don't remember being awake for that particular vote."

"That's because we never voted on a leader," Sam replied. "And I think that's a good place to start."

"For Heaven's sake, Loki will be invading Earth and we'll STILL be sitting here fighting over who gets to be in charge," Jim shouted.

The room broke out at that point, with each person shouting to be heard over the others. As things began to escalate and it appeared that fists were going to be thrown, another knock sounded at the door.

Sherlock looked to the Doctor as the room fell silent. "Honestly, Doctor, I'm not sure I gave you permission to broadcast my flat's location to the world."

"That's not mine," the Doctor responded. "I didn't invite anyone else to this meeting." He glanced accusingly at Jim, who held up his hands innocently. "Don't look at me," he said. "All of my dearest friends area already here."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. John wondered how neither man had killed the either until this point, and stood up to open the door.

"Wait!" Sam shouted. "It could be Loki. Or anyone. We can't just open the door."

"They'll get it open eventually if they mean you harm. Better to get it over with," John replied calmly, twisting the doorknob and praying for the best. He opened the door a crack, then swung it open to reveal the strangers to the rest of the group. At the door stood three men. One wore a black leather jacket, the other a red and brown flannel shirt, and the third a disheveled suit jacket underneath a tan trench coat.

"Anybody recognize these guys?" John asked.

The Doctor jumped up, nearly stepping over Sam in his hurry to reach the door. "Sam, Dean, Castiel! It's been too long. How did you even know-?"

"He's an angel, remember?" the man in the leather jacket said bluntly. "He knows everything. You guys got any beer?"


	11. Divine Intervention

"Wait a second. You're Dean Winchester! And you're Sammy Winchester! I remember you guys!" Sam exclaimed, jumping to her feet and rushing over to the newcomers. "You guys, you saved our town from something a year ago. I can't really remember, but I totally remember you coming into the bar!"

"So, uh, we've met before?" Sammy asked, glancing at Dean, who shrugged and shook his head.

"Well, briefly," Sam said. "I worked as a bartender during my summers home from college, and you guys stopped in a few times while you were in my town." She shrugged. "You probably don't remember me, but that's totally cool. You were doing some serious demon hunting shit."

As Sam and the two newcomers chatted about the demon hunting expedition in her hometown, Sherlock sauntered over and extended his hand to the man in the trench coat.

"So what are you, really?" he asked, as the shorter man observed his extended hand through squinted eyes. He glanced up at Sherlock then stepped closer to Dean, who was laughing about some inside joke with Sammy.

"Dean?" he asked. "What does his hand mean?"

"What is it, Cas?" Dean snapped, looking over to Sherlock and seeing his still extended hand. "Oh, sorry man," he said, shaking Sherlock's hand with a firm grasp. "Castiel is still adjusting and learning about us humans. You know. Heaven is pretty far from Earth."

Sherlock eyed the three suspiciously. "You expect us to believe that this man is an angel?" He looked to the Doctor. "And you know these two? You trust them? How did they find our flat?"

Castiel answered calmly.

"I am an angel of the Lord," he began.

"Here we go again," Dean sighed, wandering over to the fridge and wrenching it open, searching for a drink.

Castiel glared at Dean before finishing.

"And I am here to help protect the female human and Time Lady," he said, looking at Sam. She met his stare, then looked down, backing toward the kitchen and fishing a bottle of gin out of the cabinet for Dean. Castiel's eyes followed her, then returned to Sherlock and the Doctor.

"How can I be of assistance?" he asked.

Over a four-day period at Sherlock and John's flat, the ragtag group of protectors researched, planned, argued, drank themselves into oblivion, planned some more, fought, and finally emerged with a strategy based on newfound revelations. They discovered their best defense on the second night, when the whisky ran out and Sam volunteered to run down to the store and pick up some more.

Sherlock had developed a rudimentary tracking system that allowed them to mimic Loki's ability to monitor Sam's location. With it, he was able to pinpoint her position within half a mile, which the Doctor grudgingly agreed was better than nothing. However, the evening that Sam ran to the store, it was Castiel's turn to accompany her outside. When they returned, the flat was in an uproar.

"Cas!" Dean shouted as they walked through the door. "Where were you guys? Did you go halfway around the world to get that freaking whisky?"

"I am afraid I do not understand," Castiel said slowly, but Jim and Sherlock's shouting drowned his voice out.

"James Moriarty, if you broke my tracker-"

"You know I haven't touched your baby, Sherlock," Jim sneered back. "You don't let anyone within ten feet of your little invention."

"Well somebody touched it, or broke it, or something," Sherlock shouted back. "Sam and Castiel weren't in Rome getting alcohol, unless you two flew there," he snapped at the pair.

"Wait, what? No we just went down to the corner. We were gone, what, like fifteen minutes?" Sam asked. "What's going on?"

The Doctor hoisted himself to his feet and walked over, taking Sam's wristband in his hands and running his fingers over the glowing blue gems. "It seems to be working," he said. "I don't understand…unless…" the Doctor trailed off, then his eyes snapped to John. "You. John. Get up. Take Sam down to the exact same corner that she just came from."

"And why would I do that?" John snapped. The group was exhausted, and John himself was starting to get annoyed at the Doctor's clear superiority complex.

"Because I believe Castiel is somehow interfering with our tracking system. And if he can obstruct ours, there is a chance that Loki's might be affected as well. But we need to test this, so I need each person in this room to walk down to the corner with Sam, then we'll finish with Castiel again."

Two hours later, the group was silent, sitting on the floor and passing around a bottle of whisky. The Doctor had been right. Castiel's presence interfered with the tracking device, and their entire strategy now rested upon Sam and Castiel never separating.

THREE WEEKS LATER

Sam was asleep in the backseat of a black Chevy Impala, her head resting on Castiel's shoulder as he gazed out the window, lost on another continent, searching for signs of the Master in Asia. Dean and Sammy sat in the front seat, sharing a beer and softly playing a local rock station. They were driving through Ohio on their way to a small town in Indiana, where they were planning to rendezvous with the Doctor and pass Sam off along with Castiel.

"Hey man, can we stop somewhere? I'm getting kind of hungry," Sammy said quietly to Dean.

Dean nodded. "Yeah man, me too. I think there's a gas station ahead. We can fuel up and grab some snacks. Maybe they have pie."

Sammy rolled his eyes as the Impala pulled into the lot, Dean driving over to a pump. He opened the passenger door and headed inside the small convenience store as Dean filled up the car. Sammy sighed. They had been on the road for days, constantly moving and accomplishing nothing. They didn't even know where Loki and the Master were, how close they were to invading, or even if Cas was interfering with their tracking system as he did with Sherlock's.

He grabbed a basket and started filling up on snacks. Bananas, water, some more beer, a jar of peanut butter. He noticed small sliced of pie along a side counter and picked one up for Dean, smiling to himself that his brother would appreciate it.

"SAMMY!" his brother's shout stopped his heart. Dropping the basked, he sprinted outside to find Dean and Castiel fighting a group of seven men, all wearing black outfits and bulletproof vests. Sammy knew that Cas was weak from protecting Sam and mentally travelling across the world in search of Loki, and his fighting showed it. He ran across the parking lot hoping to help, but as he reached the Impala a searing pain hit the back of his head, and everything went black.


End file.
